


Book XVIII: The Moon

by DarkeShayde



Series: The Arcana: A Retelling [18]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Creepy, Dimension Travel, Discovery, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Falling In Love, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Magic, Magic Tricks, Memory Loss, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Other, Out of Body Experiences, Plague, Portals, Recovered Memories, Snowball Fight, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-23 06:07:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18148097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeShayde/pseuds/DarkeShayde
Summary: Shayde and Julian are given a shocking revelation when the Star informs them they are ready to face the Devil. She tells the pair to seek Shayde’s personal gateway to strengthen her magic, but instead they find their worse nightmares made real ... or are they? Now, the must find each other and a way out.





	Book XVIII: The Moon

Julian gawks at the Star in disbelief. I feel like my own facial expression is probably very similar to his.

“Could you, er, could you repeat that? I don’t think I heard you right-?” Julian begins, but trails off somewhat uncertainly.

“You’re ready to face the Devil!” The Star repeats with an upbeat smile.

“Oh. I did hear you right.” Julian grumbles.

“See, the Devil’s up to all kinds of mischief. He’s been making plans, sneaking around, making deals … All so he can break down the barriers between your realm and ours.” The Star explains patiently and more clearly than most of the Major Arcana would. “If that happens, well, it won’t be pretty. And it’s up to you to stop it!”

“Us, specifically?” Julian questions. “Why?”

“I think you already know the answer, dontcha?” The Star says. “Shayde. You’re the key to this. You’re the only one who can stop the Devil. But you can’t do it alone. You’re gonna need help.” The Star looks meaningfully at Julian, and he straightens up.

“Well, then. I guess I can add ‘saving the world’ to my to-do list, huh?” Julian says sarcastically before becoming quite serious. “You can count on me, Shayde. Always.”

“Your powers need developing.” The Star tells me. “You’ve begun to tap into them a little, but you still need more practice. And the best place to practice is a personal gateway! You know a bit about that, don’t you?” I think back, trying to recall where I’ve heard that before. Didn’t Asra mention something like that, once?

“It’s a place magicians can access, where they’re closest to their own magic.” I say.

“Bingo! Being there will help you connect more to your own power, and learn more about yourself. Of course, seeing as how it’s so personal, I can’t tell you how to find it. But if you look within yourself, why, you might realize that you already know the way!” The Star says. She beams confidently at me, and I find myself smiling back.

“Thank you, for everything.” I say, speaking from the bottom of my heart.

“Don’t mention it!” She tells me with a wave of her paw-like hand. “It’s my pleasure, really. Take care of yourselves, okay? Don’t be strangers!” Julian and I wave goodbye to the Star and make our way down the stairs of the lighthouse. The door at the base of the lighthouse opens into a snowy forest. The ocean, the docked boat, and Scout are all nowhere to be seen. Shivering, Julian buttons up his shirt and coat, fluffing his collar to block out the chill. I pull my own cropped jacket closer in an attempt keep the warmth in.

“Brrrr. I suppose this place doesn’t need to follow the rules of geography, does it?” Julian observes as we step out of the lighthouse and into the winter wonderland. “Ah, but it’s sort of nostalgic. Reminds me of the months I spent in the South. There’s nothing like running around with friends after a fresh snowfall. One time, we built a snow fort as big as the Vesuvia Palace! With snowmen to serve as guards, of course.” He chuckles, smiling wistfully at the pristine white landscape.

“Those were the days … Hmm … Hey, what’s that?” He points, and I turn around to look, wondering what got his attention. All I can see all around us is snow and trees.

“I don’t see anything-?” I’m cut off when a snowball hits me in the shoulder, scattering snow all over my back. I yelp in surprise and whip around to see Julian doubled over with laughter. Oh, he _didn’t_.

“Ha, gotcha!” He shouts in triumph.

“Julian!”

“Sorry, not sorry! I couldn’t resist.” He says, still laughing. “If you want to tell me off, well … Let’s have a snowball fight. Winner takes all?” From the look on his face, I can guess what kind of prize he’s thinking of. Not that I mind, but I can’t back down from a challenge like that. I scoop up a handful of snow. Julian’s eyes go wide.

“Uh oh.” He dives for cover, and my snowball smacks harmlessly into a tree trunk. “C’mon, Shayde, you can do better then-” My second snowball catches him in the shoulder before he can finish his sentence. Julian retaliates with a volley of his own and soon the air is full of snowballs and laughter. As I crouch behind a tree, making another snowball, a thought occurs to me. I wonder if I could … Hmm. I smile with a mischievous glee at the idea that just formed in my mind. Magic tingles along my fingers, encasing the snowball in a shimmering aura. I don’t even wait for Julian to show his face. I throw the snowball with all my strength. Guided by my will, it curves in a wide arc, around the tree.

“What the-? Gah!” I hear Julian call as he lunges out from behind the tree, falling over himself as he tries to dodge the snowball, but to no avail.

“Oh, no, nonono-!” The snowball dives after him, jinks around his windmilling arms, and hits him square in the chest. He topples over dramatically. I pump the air in victory while laughing at his antics.

“Oh, a lethal blow! But you know what they say …” He begins as he gets up from the snow. “If you’re going to go out, go out in a blaze of glory!” Julian rushes my tree, and though I continue pelting him with snowballs, he doesn’t stop. I have just a moment to brace myself before he tackles me into the snow.

“That cheating!” I tell him, laughing.

“All’s fair in love and war, Shayde!” He declares. Still breathless with laughter, he leans closer. “So, about that prize …” With a smirk I reach up, hooking my hand around the back of his neck, and pull him down the rest of the way. His laugh melts into a groan against my mouth.

“Mm, Shayde …” His fingers skate under the hem of my shirt, but his skin is so cold I can’t help but shiver. Julian immediately pulls back, looking apologetic.

“Ah, sorry, was that too cold? I should have realized, I … Sorry.” He says, voice sheepish.

“Then why don’t you warm me up?” I ask him, brushing my fingers through his hair fondly. Julian blinks, then lets out a startled huff of laughter.

“Shouldn’t that be my line. Shayde?” He asks. “Hmm, but that is a good idea. Yes, let me just …” He leans down, and I wrap my arms around him as our lips meet again. The air is crisp and chilly around us, but I _do_ feel warm. A deep sense of contentment spreads through my whole body. Julian brushes feather-light kisses along the line of my jaw, sighing happily.

“You know, sometimes this, this happiness, still feels so surreal.” He tells me. “I never thought I’d have something like this, with you. Best snow day ever.” But the cold is getting the better of me at last. I can’t suppress a shiver, and Julian notices immediately.

“Are you cold, Shayde? Ah, I guess even magic snow has its drawbacks.” He says.

“Don’t worry. I can fix that.” I assure him. Julian helps me sit up, watching me curiously. I run my hands over our clothing, and a flicker of magic whisks away the moisture, leaving us warm and dry.

“Now that’s awfully handy, isn’t it? You’ll have to teach me that later.” Julian says. He leans in, brushing his lips over my cheek, and offers me a hand up. “Now, about this gateway of yours … Any leads?” I pause to consider what I should do. The Star said I needed to look within myself to find the way … When I call up my magic, it suffuses my body with familiar warmth. Somewhere, in the distance, I can feel something resonating with me. As if my magic is calling to its own echo. I’ve never felt anything like it before. That must be it.

“I can feel it. That way.” I tell Julian as I point into the distance, towards a mountain range on the far horizon.

“Lead the way, Shayde. Gateway, here we come!” Julian says with a bow in my direction. Our course decided, we set off. The wintry forest is almost silent, save for the sound of our footsteps crunching on the snow. It doesn’t feel like we’re been walking for long when we emerge on the shore of a frozen lake. The icy surface is broken by the whorls and spikes f massive waves, frozen mid-break. The woods to either side are impassably dense. The only way forward is over the ice. I hope it is thick enough to walk on. Swimming in ice cold water is not a fevered pastime of mine.

“Let’s see … ah, here. Use this to test the ice before you step onto it.” Julian hands me a fallen branch, fairly straight and sturdy enough to lean on, and picks another for himself. “Stay close, Shayde. Careful now, slowly does it.” Gingerly, I step out onto the frozen surface, probing ahead of me with the stick.

The ice is beautifully clear, and I can see a hint of deep blue through it, where the water is still liquid. Julian and I move slowly, staying within arm’s reach of each other just in case. Movement below me catches my eye. A vast, dark shape slides languidly through the water, far below the ice we walk on. Though I watch it carefully, it never gets any closer to the surface. Gradually, it fades from view, diving to some unknown depth. We walk for what feels like hours before we reach the far shore, just as night falls. It’s a massive relief to set foot on solid ground again. Ahead of us, the mountains reach for the sky, their snowy peaks lost in clouds. But when I let my magic spread out again, I hesitate.

“I can’t feel it any more.” I say, turning to Julian.

“Huh. That’s … weird.” He replies. “But it was coming from up ahead, right? If we just keep going, we should find it sooner or later.” He forges ahead, and I follow, through the trees and up the mountainside.

“It must be somewhere up … here …” He trails off as we emerge from the tree line. A door stands by itself, surrounded by undisturbed snow. A familiar door.

“Huh, it … looks just like the door of your shop.” Julian observes. A brief surge of homesickness overtakes me as I approach the door. It’s carved from the same wood as the door of my shop, and the air around it is warmer than our frigid surroundings. I can smell the herbs I always have hanging up to dry in the shop, with a whiff of smoke from the stove salamander. I stretch out a hand, resting it on the wood. It even feels the same. The door swings open … And chains whip out from inside the gateway, wrapping around my arms and legs.

“Shayde!” I catch a glimpse of Julian getting tangled up in the chains as well, before we’re both dragged into the open gateway. Everything goes completely black.

I am a student of the magical arts. A resident of the city of Vesuvia. Tonight, when I leave my shop, I don’t bother to lock the door behind me. There’s no point really. I drift almost aimlessly through the empty streets. Around me, the buildings slowly crumble into dust and ash. Flakes of paint swirl in the air. The canals are full of red, red water. Shouldn’t I be somewhere else …? No. I belong here. Here, where there is only the sound of wind, and distant weeping.

Ahead of me is a body of water. From the docks, I can see the Lazaret. It looms dark in the distance, a monument to the city’s failures. There is only one boat, moored at the pier. It’s waiting to take me where I belong. _Don’t_ _go_. Why not? Everyone goes to Lazaret to await their end, when it’s their turn. And now it’s mine. I don’t see any reason not to go. Don’t I? Why does my head feel so fuzzy? My feet carry me forward, to the boat. A auburn-haired, plague doctor in black and red stands in the bow, waiting for me to board. _Julian?_ … Who … Who’s that? The question rattles something loose in my head. A simple question. How did I get here? Well, that’s easy to answer. I came from my shop. And before that? … Where was I, before that? Why can’t I remember? I was in … I was in …?

The sense-memory surfaces ever so slowly. A brisk, chilly breeze. Fresh snow crunching under my feet. Spindly dark trees as far as the eye can see. A snowy forest, somewhere far, far away. I wasn’t in Vesuvia. And I wasn’t alone. In front of me, the plague doctor freezes, standing as still and silent as a statue in the boat. Then the body wiggles and writhes bonelessly under its clothes, dissolving into a swarm of red beetles. _Plague_ _beetles?_ They skitter away, leaving the mask and dark coat in the boat.

The oppressive cloud in my head lifts slightly. _Julian_. Of course I know Julian is. I have to find him, the real him. We have to get out of here. He’s somewhere ahead of me, over the water. I can feel it. I sigh in resignation. There’s nothing for it. I get in the boat, and start moving across the dark water. A thick fog rolls in, so dense and opaque that I can barely see my own hands in front of me. Trusting the faint pull tugging me onward, I continue rowing, until the boat bumps up against something. An island? The moment I set foot on dry land, branches and roots seize my limbs, immobilizing me. Somehow, this feels … familiar? Julian stands in a circle of light, speaking to a misty figure with the head of a bird. The Hanged Man?

“Indecision … introspection … inaction. They will serve you forever.” His voice echoes as if it’s coming from a great distance. The syllables warp and distort. “You stand between realms, but there is only one road for you.” Julian’s answer is immediate.

“Then it’s not much of a choice.” … Huh? “There’s nothing left for me back there.” He walks deeper into the misty forest, and the mangrove branches finally release me. Panic seizes me. I can think of nothing else. I run after him, but the fog is so thick and damp that it feels almost sticky on my skin.

“Julian, wait!” I call. I can’t reach him. I stretch out a hand towards him as the fog closes around his back. Where did he go? I hear splashing somewhere ahead. No, to the right? No, left. I can’t see Julian at all any more, but he’s just up ahead. He must be. It’s been minutes. Hours? Days? Where is he? Where am I? This isn’t how it happened … It isn’t? I slow to a walk, then stop, concentrating on that thought. Fighting the lethargy in my limbs and mind, I drag forth a memory. I’ve been here before. I saw Julian talking to the Hanged Man in this realm. But he didn’t stay here. He chose to come back. He chose life. This isn’t right. This isn’t _real_.

A breeze stirs my clothes, before a great gust of wind whips around me, blowing away the fog. A familiar and sinister structure emerges in front of me. It stands on a lonely island, waiting oh so patiently for me. The gate is open. It won’t stop me. The lift to the dungeon, where Julian labored to find the cure. I can sense him down there. The real Julian. I need to go deeper. I step into the left and pull the lever to descend.

The door clangs open at the bottom of the shaft. When I step through, I feel a jolt, and for the first time since I opened my eyes at my shop, my mind feels clear. Dozens of rusty-red handprints line the walls. Most are large enough to belong to adults, but lower down, they’re small enough to be children’s. Yet when I look closely, the details fade into a haze. _Oh_. I’m dreaming. I’ve been dreaming this whole time. But while this place is also a dream, it’s not _my_ dream. It’s Julian’s.

The dungeon in my memory is empty, with only abandoned tools and stains left behind on the tables scattered around the room. But now, bodies are piled in the corners, and the crumbling walls weep ichor. The office doors bang open and closed in a silent wind. Beetles swarm over the walls, clicking mutinously. I had thought the dungeon was creepy the last time I was here, but _now_? It is decidedly worse this time around.

“No, no, no, no, this isn’t, this can’t be … Why isn’t it working?!” Julian huddles over a table, talking frantically to himself. I can hear the fear and panic in his voice. The person on the table coughs violently, and struggles to sit up.

“ … Julian …” She’s wearing my clothes. My body. My face. My eyes, the sclera dyed crimson. But it’s not me. It’s not me. _It’s_ _not_ _me!_ My voice dies in my throat. No matter how hard I try to scream, I can’t get the words out. I rush to Julian’s side, and try to pull him away … but my hands pass harmlessly through him. He can’t even see me.

“It’s your fault. You … _you_ let this happen.” She says to Julian, using my voice.

“Shayde, no, no, that’s not … I didn’t …” Julian stutters out, unable to order his thoughts properly enough to speak clearly. I can see tears streaming down his cheeks. “Please, just lie back down, stay still. I’ll fix this, I promise.”

“You can’t. You can’t fix this, Julian.” She says with a disturbing finality. Quite suddenly, beetles swarm up the legs of the table and over my nightmarish double, faster than Julian can swat them away. She is soon completely covered in squirming, red carapaces.

“No! Get away, get _away_ from her-” Julian says. But when he finally clears them away, there’s nothing left. Not even a body. “No, no, no, no, this can’t me happening, not again-” From the shadows of the room, three familiar figures emerge. The sclera of their eyes are all red with the plague and a red rash surrounds their eyes like a mask. I can only stand helpless by and watch in horror.

“You should have been there for Shayde. She died because of you!” Asra spits accusingly at Julian. His crimson dyed eyes are barely open.

“I was fine without you. We were all fine without you!” Portia cries out, red eyes brimming with tears. “Mazelinka was right, you should never have come back!”

“Run, Doctor.” Nadia orders, her mouth turned down in a sneer as she glares at him. “Run from your mistakes, like you always do!” They close in around Julian, their accusing voices blending into a malicious cacophony. Clutching his head, Julian bolts from the main room and into the safety of his office. As he does, the dungeon twists and blurs around us. Instead of an office … I see a very familiar room.

Wallpaper peels from the walls in long, curling ribbons. The drapery flutters without any wind. Portraits of Lucio crowd the walls, dozens of angles of him of him as a young man, healthy and triumphant. But when I look closer, I see that the painted figure is wretched, withered husk, and the frames are charred at the edges. More evidence of death and decay. Julian comes to a halt at the side of the bed, wild-eyed and breathing hard.

“You …!” He snarls. That’s when I notice the figure on the bed.

“What do you want, _Jules?_ ” Lucio demands from his position on his pillows. “Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep? It’s almost time … almost time for my party …”

 _“You_ _can_ _still_ _save_ _them_ , _Doctor_. _”_ A mysterious voice whispers from the dark corners of the room.

“I … I can?” Julian breathes.

 _“You_ _know_ _how_ _to_ _cure_ _the_ _plague._   _You could stop this, here and now. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? He’s so weak, so delusional, so … pathetic. You know what you have to do.”_  I try to shout a warning, to pull Julian away, to do something, anything … But this isn’t my nightmare. I can’t do anything to stop him. I can only hope he makes the right choice on his own.

“I … I can’t. I _can’t_. He’s helpless, and he …” He says, face screwed up with his conflicted emotions. Julian’s argument is cut off by the voice speaking over him.

 _“He was a murderer before you met him. He will murder again if he lives. Think of your friends. Your loved ones. Your Shayde.”_ The voice taunts.

“Oh, Shayde, I …” Julian trails off, but a look of determination crosses his face. “… No. No, that’s … that’s wrong. Shayde … would never want me to do this. She’d never say those things to me.” I can feel a spark of hope at his words. That’s the Julian I know.

“ _Wouldn’t_ _she?_ ” Questions the voice, but now I can hear the sarcastic bite to the words now. Julian shakes his head, wiping fiercely at his face.

“No. Never. And neither would Pasha. Or Asra, or Nadia.” He says firmly and I feel a surge of pride at his declaration. “ _None_ of them would say those things to me. I regret so many things. I’ve made so many mistakes. But I can grow. I can learn. I’m not the same man I was back then. And … I’m _not_ a murderer.” When he finishes speaking, Julian takes a step back from the bed, and finally, my voice obeys me.

“Julian!” Startled, Julian looks around. Our eyes meet, as the room disintegrates around us. When my vision clears, I’m looking up at the ceiling of … my shop? I shake off my vertigo and sit up. It looks like my shop, but it can’t be. Everything is cold, the jars and counters rimed with frost. But, most importantly, I’m awake. Everything is solid, crisp, and _real_. Julian is next to me, slumped against the counter. He groans weakly.

“Julian?” I call to him softly. His eyes fly open, and he bolts upright.

“Shayde!” He lurches forward to cup my cheeks in his hands, studying my face intensely. The relief in his face is nearly painful to see. “It … It’s you, it’s really you, you’re here, you’re … you’re …” His voice breaks in the last word. He’s trembling all over, from more than just the cold. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. With a choked gasp, he wraps me in a hug so tight I can feel the frantic rushing of his heart through my whole body. I bury my face against his shoulder. His solid, very much real shoulder. I think I need this comforting contact just as much as he does.

“Shayde, Shayde, you’re safe, you’re _safe_ -” Julian crumples against me, shaking. Holding him tightly, I murmur gentle reassurances against his hair. Anything to give him some comfort and reassurance.

“I’m safe. You’re safe. It’s okay, Julian, everything’s going to be okay. It was only a dream. It wasn’t real.” I say. And thank the stars for that! Shuddering, he lifts his head slightly to look me in the eye.

“You … you had them, too? The nightmares?” He asks. I nod, running my fingers gently through his hair. “Can I ask what you, uh … you don’t have to tell me, but …” I saw his nightmares, so it is only fair he hear about mine.

“I saw Vesuvia. Overtaken by plague. It was just me in the streets, and …” I begin. Now that I’m awake, the nightmares have faded into a dreamy haze. I tell him about my nightmares as though they were just a story. When I finish, Julian isn’t trembling as much any more. Even so, it takes a moment longer before he begins to speak.

“I dreamed … I dreamed about the storm.” He says. _The_ storm? I look at him curiously. “Ah, I never told you, did I? When Pasha and I were little, we were shipwrecked in the storm of the century. We made it out alive. Washed up near Nevivon, and the rest is history.” I feel a brief pang of curiosity at this tidbit of information about his history … but this isn’t really the time for questions. I can sense that Julian isn’t finished.

“But in the dream … the storm ripped Pasha out of my arms. I woke up alone on the beach. I was looking for her, looking everywhere, and I couldn’t find her. Her cottage was abandoned. Everything overgrown, the roof falling in, nothing left. I went inside, and then … Somehow, I was in the Palace dungeon, I …” He falters, and I cup his cheek gently. He takes a moment, breathing deeply, before he continues.

“I … I thought I saw you, the real you, at the end.” He says.

“It was me.” I tell him. He laughs shakily, wiping at his face.

“Seems like that’s becoming a running theme, doesn’t it?” He says, avoiding eye contact. “How … how much did you see?”

“Everything in the dungeon … and Lucio’s room.” I confess. “I’m so sorry, Julian. I tried to break through, but …”

“… It’s alright, Shayde. I … I broke through on my own, didn’t I? There was a time when … I wouldn’t have been able to break free. Before I met you, for the second time.” Julian assures me. “Those things they said, those horrible things … I know where they come from. I told myself those same things so many times, I … I started to believe them.” I smooth my thumb over his cheek, wiping away the tears. His smile is genuine, though it trembles at the corners.

“But I’m not the same man I was three years ago. I’ve changed. I really have. Thanks to you, Shayde.” He concludes. I lean forward, resting our foreheads together, and Julian closes his eyes, bending close to me. We hold each other, saying nothing more. Julian’s hands and heart rate are steady when he finally stirs, mumbling something under his breath.

“Huh?” I question.

“Thank you, Shayde. I, ah, I feel better. Do you?” He asks. I pause to consider. I feel drained, but I’m not as shaky as when I first woke up.

“I’m alright.” I finally answer.

“Then we, um. We should probably figure out where we are.” Julian reasons. We climb to our feet, looking around. “This … this isn’t your gate, is it?”

“No. The gate we found on the mountain must have been a trap.” I reply. This place has a strange, cold feeling. It’s almost familiar. Just then something not unlike quiet chimes resounds through the shop.

“What was that?” Julian asks. It came from the back room. “Stay close, Shayde.” No arguments here. We approach the back room together, cautiously. There, lying on the table, is a single card.

“… Huh.” Julian says, seemingly taken back by what we find. He turns to me. “Care to do the honors?” I flip the card over.

“Death, reversed.” I announce. The card is cold and distant, and all I can hear is a fading echo of some distant bell. It’s the same energy of the shop itself. I know where we are.

“We’re in Death’s realm.” I say in realization.

“My, my, my.” A new voice says from seemingly nowhere. I jump, looking around frantically for the source of the strangely familiar voice.

“Who’s there?!” I demand.

“Show yourself!” Julian calls into the echoing shop.

“If you insist.” The voice says. I whirl around to confront the stranger, and flinch back in surprise. And utter horror. Valdemar stands in the open doorway. They step inside, and the door swings shut.

“You’re both awake?” They ask with a slight pout. “And in possession of all your facilities? My little welcoming gift should have snapped your mind like twigs. Perhaps it needs further refinement.” They tap their chin thoughtfully.

“Valdemar!” Julian growls. “What are _you_ doing here?!”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You are in my realm, after all.” They answer. What? That’s … not right.

“Your realm? You’re the Death Arcana?” Julian’s shock seems real, but to my ear, it rings just a little hollow. Is he … fishing for information?

“Don’t be silly. If I where one of _them_ , I would never be able to leave.” Valdemar replies, with a roll of their eyes. “Well, I suppose it’s not technically my realm. But Death can’t do much of anything these days, so I’ve taken over.”

“But if you’re not an Arcana then … what _are_ you?” Julian asks.

“Oh, good question. What do your cards tell you, magician?” They ask. I’m still holding the Death card in my hand. It whispers to me in a voice silvered with frost. The real Death Arcana sounds nothing like Valdemar … but I can’t shake the feeling that they’re connected, somehow.

“Death, upright, is about change. Transformation. Endings and beginnings.” I explain carefully. “But reversed, it can mean resistance to change. Stagnation.”

“Goodness, you say that like it’s a bad thing.” Valdemar says, with their pout back in place. “Why would I ever want to change? Humans are so fragile. So very breakable. But I’m not. Not any more.” I rack my brain, trying to recall if I’ve ever heard of anything like this.

“Well? Any guesses?”

“I … don’t know what you are.” I finally say.

“Disappointing, but not very surprising. Few people know anything about the process.” Valdemar says. “ _He’s_ made sure of that.”

“He …?” Julian questions.

“The Devil, of course.” They say. It sends a chill down my spine. I remember the Devil and Valdemar, standing side-by-side, the the Palace garden.

“So it was the Devil who tricked us? And sent us here?” Julian reasons, still leading Valdemar into telling us more.

“Did you only just figure that out?” Valdemar mocks.

“Then you really are one of his servants.” Julian says with a sneer.

“Don’t be crass.” Valdemar snaps. “We’re _colleagues_.”

“And they other courtiers you were working with? Volta, Vlastomil, Vulgora? Are they ‘colleagues’ too?” Julian asks, voice filled with snark.

“They might like to think they’re on the same level as me … but no, oh no.” Valdemar grins, exposing their pointed teeth.

“It takes a long time to become this powerful, and none of them have managed it.”

“If you’re so powerful, why does the Devil have you doing his dirty work? Is he afraid of us?” Julian scoffs. Valdemar cocks their head to the side as if curious.

“Afraid? Whyever would he be afraid? You can’t possibly kill him. Not with your pathetic humanity intact. If you were like me …” Valdemar pauses. I get the feeling that they’ve said too much. “… I tire of this. I suppose I should wrap things up. I admit, I’m curious. I’ve never killed anyone already separated from their body before.” Adrenaline and magic alike surge through my veins, responding to Valdemar’s threat. Suddenly, there is a flash of light in the shop and a strange sound that seems to come from within … What was that? A … a voice?

“Are you planning to fight back? Please do. It’s more fun that way.” Valdemar mocks me, with that sinister grin of theirs.

“Shayde, no! You can’t fight them!” Julian calls.

“I have to try!” I call back.

“I …” Julian starts to speak but … A strange, buzzing rasp echos through the shop. It’s coming from … Valdemar? When I look at them, I flinch in horror. Valdemar’s body wavers uncertainly at the edges, overlaid on a shape I can’t even begin to understand. As though their human form is merely a veil, covering something … something _other_. My mind struggles to make sense of what I’m seeing. A fierce, sharp pain blossoms behind my eyes. Again I hear that rasping. Is Valdemar … laughing? Julian grips my arm, and I tear my eyes away from Valdemar with an effort.

“Shayde, I believe in you. Do what you need to do.” Somehow, he musters up a grin. “Kick their ass!” I focus, pushing past the pain, and listen, searching for the voice I heard within me. Another flash of light, and the voice rings in my mind, suddenly loud and clear. It’s _my_ voice, though it doesn’t speak in any words I understand. It’s a whisper of salty air, a flash of the sun on the ocean, a promise of a faraway horizon. A breath of freedom. The magic surges up through me, pouring down my arms and into my hands.

When I look at Valdemar again, a bright pain lances through my head, as though I’m trying to look at the sun. An undulating mass twitches and judders in front of me, their outline fluctuating unevenly. Their surface boils, clusters of eyes and teeth and rib-bones emerging from within their mass, then dissolving back into it. But I can see something else. The shadows of chains, densely wrapped around Valdemar’s form.

Valdemar reaches one (or maybe more?) long, terrible, blade-like limb towards us. Closer … closer … Until they’re close enough. I lash out, grabbing hold of one of the chains. For a moment, it almost feels cold. Then it _burns_ , white-hot agony searing up from my hand and into my body, driving all other thoughts from my mind. Julian catches hold of me when I stumble, holding me up. Abruptly, the agony lessens, and I can breathe past the stabbing pain in my chest. In the same moment, Julian doubles over, his expression twisting with an echo of my own pain. But he doesn’t let go. He’s still holding on. A single link of the chain snaps. Valdemar goes suddenly, totally still. Then, they spasm violently, as some of their mass disintegrates, dissolving into nothing. I realize to my horror, that the chains are the only thing holding Valdemar together. Then … the pain fades. Without another word, Valdemar flees, vanishing into thin air. Death’s realm is silent for all of five seconds, before Julian lets out a triumphant yell.

“Shayde, that was amazing!” He laughs in relief before he kisses me and spins me around in a circle, but we both wobble and stumble, nearly falling. “… Oof, that took a lot out of both of us, I guess. But you did it! You made Valdemar turn tail and run! If they hand run, you would’ve kicked their ass for real!” As much as I hate to rain on Julian’s parade … I don’t think that’s true.

“We got lucky, Julian.” I tell him with a shake of my head. “If they’d stayed, it would’ve gone badly for us.” He sobers up for a moment, considering that possibility, then shrugs slightly.

“But they didn’t. They didn’t, and we’re both safe, thanks to … to …” He breaks off uncertainly. “That. Uh. What was that, anyways? For a moment I thought I saw you grab something. Chains?” He looks at me curiously.

“Yes. The same chains as the ones that pulled us into the fake gate.” I answer. I can still feel a shadow of that searing heat on my hand. That oppressive, claustrophobic energy … It was the same as the Devil’s. “I think those chains … are part of the Devil’s power.”

“And you broke one of the links.” Julian states, eyes wide in surprise. I still don’t really know how I did it. I didn’t know I _could_. Julian opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again.

“Hey … Uh, if you can break the Devil’s chains … Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” He asks. I manage to nod.

“This must be what the Star meant. This is how I can stop the Devil.”


End file.
